The Fifth

The Fifth

Love – it’s the fifth time of the day,
Neither evening, nor night, nor afternoon, nor morning.
You arrive while the sun is shining at midnight,
And leave in the middle of the morning night.

Love – it’s the fifth season,
Neither Autumn, nor Spring, nor Summer,
It’s not Winter, it’s what you want it to be,
And this depends solely on you.

Love does not bear a likeness to anything else in this world,
Neither childhood, nor old-age, nor youth, nor maturity;
Love is the fifth season of life.

1962

-Vadim Shefner (Translated by me)

I personally feel that this poem is a little hokey. If nothing else, I should have saved it for Valentine’s Day. Regardless it’s up for a reason, to balance out the steady stream of depressing works I’ve been posting lately. Enjoy. I rather like Shefner actually. People should go back to June and revisit Sinners.

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